


The Dakar

by jade_maiden_333



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Dakar Rally, Destiel - Freeform, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Motorbiker!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jade_maiden_333/pseuds/jade_maiden_333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a professional motorcycle racer, Castiel Novak believes in "Going big, or going home". Lead mechanic Dean Winchester wants to teach Cas that there are more important things than winning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dakar

**Author's Note:**

> It's 2008. Dakar Rally is a nine thousand kilometer race involving 250 bikes, 150 cars, and 60 huge trucks. Known as “The Dakar”, they race daily, starting in Lisbon, Portugal, racing down the west coast of Africa and ending in Dakar, Senegal sixteen days later. Historically, it has claimed the lives of some of the best riders in the world. It is one of the most dangerous races left.
> 
>  
> 
> "Auto racing, bullfighting, and mountain climbing are the only real sports ... all others are games." **\---Ernest Hemingway**  
> 

Dean jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his crew jumpsuit. Standing with the crowd of support personnel, he tried his best to ignore the heat, the wind and the stutter-step of his heart as he waited for the rally bike to crest the dune. The sand shimmered, a hot gust buffeting against the crew tents. Finally the lone bike appeared, a comma on the horizon. The bike whipped over the dune, engine howling, landing with improbable grace amongst the sand and grass. A half dozen bikes trailed behind. At a distance the bikes and riders looked indistinguishable from the others, but Dean knew Cas’ aggressive technique anywhere.

He made himself wait for Cas to trundle up to his designated area, an odd combination of worry and affection stirring in his belly. Cas removed his helmet, revealing a shock of dark untamable hair. He wore a big smile having made good time in this last stage, better than expected. He searched the crowd, eager for Dean’s nod of approval. But Dean looked pointedly away, biting at his lip. He pulled a shop rag from his back pocket, giving his hands something to do.

“Adjusting the peg-to-seat distance really made a difference, Winchester,” Cas was breathless, but fired up. “That’s got to be a personal best for Stage Four.”

Dean pretended not to hear. “Novak, you’ve got to know that you can’t just barrel through the suspension like that.”

“Of course I can. It’s made to take it.”

“Yeah, but only if it has to. We still have a lot of ground to cover--”

“Not his first rally, Winchester,” Bobby interrupted. He steadied the bike, allowing Cas to slide off. “He knows what he's doing.”

“Then he needs to act like it,” he wheeled on Cas again. “You want to blow your wad this early in the race?”

“Dean--”

“This is the Sahara, we're not seat bouncing jumps in your backyard,” he gestured angrily, oily rag waving like a semaphore flag. “You’re being--”

Cas glared at him, speaking through clenched teeth. “Don’t say it…”

“--Reckless,” Dean continued. “That bike costs more than my house, Novak. Be smart, for God’s sake.”

The crew milled around, ostensibly working, but side-eyeing the confrontation like it was a ping pong match. Ever aware, Cas noticed before he did. All eyes landed on him, eagerly awaiting the next volley.

Their private affairs wouldn't be private for much longer with them bickering in front of the team like a married couple. Dean shoved the dirty shop towel into his back pocket, storming off before Cas could respond. Cas stared after him, hurt and confusion lining his features. He looked at Bobby who just shook his head.

“Give him a little while to cool off, son. You scared the bejesus out of him.”

 

 

Dean missed dinner. He hadn’t meant to, but he had settled on focusing on bike maintenance rather than thinking about how badly he screwed up. He was right about Cas and his knack for not just finding danger, but openly embracing it. But he shouldn’t have called him out on it, and definitely not in front of the crew. True, they were all one big happy family. Still. Dick move. It was a dumb argument anyway. The suspension on the bike was outstanding. He and Bobby fine-tuned it themselves, and Cas trusted them. One day, maybe he’d learn to hold his temper.

He resisted Bobby’s efforts to persuade him to get some rest and worked until midnight, long past when the rest of the crew trickled back to the sleeping quarters for a pre-dawn wake up call. Locking up and heading to the rooms, he saw Charlie Bradbury coming in from the mess hall. The pretty, effervescent red-head spotted him and waved. Her normally sunny smile faded as she pulled him into an embrace.

“You look like crap, Winchester.”

“Eat me, Bradbury.” The cheerfulness in his voice sounded phony even to him. “You turning in for the night?”

”Right after I get this updated road book to Cas.”

Dean tried not to react to hearing Cas’ name. He did a poor job of it. Charlie’s frowned deepened.

“You two still at each other's throats?”

Dean shrugged. Rolling her eyes and giving up on getting anything intelligent out of him, she handed him a small stack of paper. “Here, you deliver the road book for me. While you're at it, pull your head out of your butt and apologize to him. He's probably alone up there in his room, stressed out six ways from Sunday. The last thing he needs is to add you to his list of worries.”

“I’m not the one who needs to apologize,” he said. ”You saw how he was riding. He could have gotten himself killed out there today.”

“Oh, now you're worried about him? A few hours ago, all anyone could hear was you railing about how he was damaging your precious bike.”

He groped for a response. “I--I didn’t want to see him get hurt.” His face reddened at the admission, even in front of his friend.

“Don't tell me,” Charlie reached out, deftly thumping him up the side of his head. “Tell him.” She studied his eyes for moment and whatever she saw there softened her tone.

“You can't count on Cas knowing what you're thinking and feeling.” Closing in, she whispered. “Tell him. Find a way.”

 

 

He was going to stand outside of Cas’ door for the rest of the night. Dean pushed fingers through his hair, scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. Maybe he could get away with slipping the paperwork under the door and skulking back to the garage to work through the night.

_No, Dean. That's not cowardly at all._

“Shit.” he mumbled. He knocked on the door before he could change his mind. Maybe he's asleep already, he tapped the sheets of paper nervously against his thigh.

No answer. 

It was just as well. Dean sucked at apologies. He bent down, shoving the wad of papers under Cas’ door. At the same moment Dean heard a small click, followed quickly by light spilling from underneath the door. Before he could stand up, Cas stood at the threshold; tan, strapping and very nearly as naked as the day he was born.

Cas’ expression rippled from hopeful to wary. He self-consciously adjusted the towel around his waist, staring at Dean. It was not the first time Dean had seen Cas from his current vantage point, but it still took his breath away. 

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he studied Dean like he was a new species of killer wasp. “I thought that you were Charlie.”

Dean managed a grin. “I’m not going to ask you to elaborate on that one.”

“Nothing weird. I was just getting out of the shower when I saw something at the door.”

“Right…”

“I thought it might be Charlie.”

“Whatever you say,” Dean conceded, pulling the papers from under Cas’ bare foot. 

“I would never...with Charlie, I mean…”

“Cas.” He quieted him with a touch to the shoulder. “Relax. I was just kidding.”

Dean walked inside, tossing the papers on a nearby table. He examined the space. It was smaller than he imagined. Twin beds, one unoccupied. Inexpensively decorated with a particle board table, chairs and a small bookcase. It was a place where guests never stayed longer than overnight, most opting to simply live out of their backpacks and suitcases. Cas followed suit, his belongings still jammed in a duffel taking up room on one of the beds.

Wet Cas in nothing but a cheap hotel towel was something to behold, but it did nothing for Dean’s conversational skills. He found himself talking to the floor.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Dean. I understand.”

Dean valiantly fought the urge to tell Cas that he wasn’t there to apologize. He remembered that it was his quick temper that screwed things up in the first place. 

His eyes wandered the room, attention caught again by the table. On it sat a single framed picture of the two of them with arms slung around each other, grinning. Ridiculously open faces. Dean could recall that day, taken at their first rally, seven years ago. 

Cas would be leaving before dawn, yet he pulled a photo out of his belongings and gave it a place in his room. 

Dean swallowed past the lump suddenly forming in his throat. Who the hell even carried framed pictures around anymore? 

Cas stood, still damp from his shower, watching Dean expectantly. He had been angry at Cas. Furious, really. He was having a difficult time remembering why.

_Tell him. Find a way._

“I just wanted to say that this race is important. To all of us. Everyone is working hard and giving one hundred and ten percent. We just want to keep you safe.” 

Cas squinted at Dean, studying him like he was a bug again. This time, Dean had the distinct impression that he was being read. Translated.

“I love you too, Dean.”

“What? I didn’t say--”

Cas grinned. “I think you did.”

Dean was going to lose this argument, and suddenly felt that he couldn't bear it if he did. He stepped over to the window, looking outside. Under the half moon, there was not much to see. Just their reflection in the glass. 

He could feel Cas’ eyes on him, watching. Waiting. It was like this when it was just the two of them. There was none of the competition that Cas seem to thrive on, but even in its absence, Dean had never felt like he had more to lose. 

When it was just the two of them, Cas was content to let the silence fill in all the empty spaces between them. He was content to wait for Dean, and he waited now.

He spoke to Cas’ reflection in the window.

“You look tired.” 

“I’m all right.”

“Liar.”

Cas laughed. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Lay down. I’ll give you a massage.”

“I can’t. I need to go over the road book.”

“Later.” Dean turned, a small smile betraying the hardness in his voice. “Bed. Now.”

Cas stared at him for a moment, considering. “Five minutes. Then you’ll let me get dressed and back to work?”

“Whatever you say, Novak.”

Cas crawled onto the bed, laying on his stomach. Dean rested his hand on the small of Cas’ back. He felt a sudden hitch in Cas’ breathing. He felt him shiver beneath his fingers.

“Relax,” Dean said, voice so low that it seemed like the tone traveled down his arm, vibrations spreading into the muscles of Cas’ back. “Just let go for a minute.”

Cas closed his eyes, feeling the weight of Dean’s hand, warmth radiating through work roughened, thick fingers. Feeling Cas melting into it, becoming malleable. He flattened the heel of his hand against the base of Cas’ spine, kneading his back and shoulders slowly, easy. He worked his way along the length of his arms, stroked the back of his fingers. Both hands massaged a trail up the length of his spine, working from tailbone to the back of his neck. The tips of his fingers brushed the nape and Cas gave another shiver.

Unhurried, Dean touched and stroked Cas, cherishing him. Dean worked his way back down, fingers catching in the folds of the towel. He tugged gently, pulling it free, and Cas let him.

_Tell him. Find a way._

“Roll over.” he commanded.

Cas did as he asked, rolling himself onto his back, watching Dean with dark eyes as the man bent over him. Dean brushed a hand down his thigh regarding him, tips of his fingers running through the dark coil of hair at his crotch.

“That’s a wicked smile,” he reached out, pulling Dean closer. “Should I be worried?”

“You don't ever need to worry about me, Cas,” he murmured. He eyed Cas appreciatively. “You’re beautiful. Did you know that?”

Cas grunted, non committal, but the sound changed abruptly, went breathless as Dean took him into his mouth. His whole body pulled taut, pleasure vibrating through him. Dean swallowed him down, burying his nose in the coarse mound. Breathed him in. Cas’ hips shook beneath him. He smelled and tasted wonderful. Strong but clean, like fresh soil after rain. 

Dean sucked the head of his cock, a wet hot deep kiss, drawing him in. Cas rocked his hips up, hard abs momentarily bumping the tip of Dean’s nose. He worked Cas, inhaled the heat of him. The slide of his tongue catching, releasing. Cas’ head tossed on the pillow. His hands tangled in Dean’s hair, tugged him closer. 

“Dean.” 

Hearing Cas moan his name had Dean aching for his own release, but this was all about Cas right now. Dean took his time. He let Cas thrust down his throat, his lean body arching, hips pumping. Dean sucked him hard, lust-drunk, then slow and easy.

“Don’t stop,” he urged, voice raw and unsteady. Dean smiled around the rigid thickness, reached beneath and cupped his balls, rolling them gently in this fingers. Cas’ head fell back on the pillow and he groaned. He began to come, shuddering in waves, spending like a champagne celebration into Dean’s mouth. It was beautiful to watch. 

 

 

Eventually his breath evened out, his eyes refocused and he turned his head toward his lover, giving him a lazy grin.

Dean returned the smile. “Better?”

Cas’ uttered something unintelligible which Dean took as a definite yes. He listened to Cas breathe, felt Cas coming back to him. He reached for Dean, pulling him in for another kiss. “What about you?”

“Another time,” he said. “You really do need to sleep. Both of us do.” Dean moved to get up, but Cas caught his arm.

“Stay,” he said, sleep already lending a whisper to his voice. “Just for a while longer.”

He let Cas pull him back down, wrapping his arms around him, stomach to back. Dean breathed into his hair, citrus, clean scent and something indescribably Cas.

_Tell him. Find a way._

“I don’t know what scares me more,” he said, “the risks you take, or how much I love you.”

Cas stiffened, for a moment he lay there almost speechless. “You actually said it.”

Dean nuzzled behind the other man's ear, speaking from the edge of sleep.

“I did. I do. I love you, Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my submission for Destieldrabblesdaily 30K Fic Contest. You can check out the amazing winners [here](http://destieldrabblesdaily.tumblr.com/).


End file.
